


A New Method of Learning.

by strawberrymango



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, hands u a good and wholesome casphardt, pretty sure this is spoiler free ?, this is just fluff because it's all im good for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrymango/pseuds/strawberrymango
Summary: When Caspar asks for Linhardt's help in studying for his Certification Exam, he makes some startling new discoveries that are definitely NOT helpful in the slightest.OR, Caspar *doesn't* realise he has a crush on Linhardt.





	A New Method of Learning.

“Argh! I just don’t get it! Why do we have to learn this kind of junk anyway? None of it’s going to matter when I get in there with my fists.”

Caspar has been staring at open pages of his book hoping that Tactical Theory will just leap from the pages and nestle itself inside his brain without any required thinking power on his part. The plan isn’t going so well - he’s no closer to understanding Weapon Advantage than he was nearly an hour ago and he’s itching to ditch the library and get back down to the training grounds. Raphael is probably already there, lifting triple his own body weight, looking cool and huge and strong and _not_ caring about stupid _Tactical Theory._

“The Professor isn’t going to let you fight in the next battle unless you pass the Certification Exam, Caspar,” Ashe says without lifting his head from his book. Ashe doesn’t have the same kind of trouble understanding Tactical Theory as Caspar does; he just _gets_ it. And no matter how hard he tries to get Caspar to reach the same level of understanding with charitable study sessions, Ashe is ultimately no better at getting through to him than the professor.

“I _know_,” Caspar groans and slumps back in his seat. That _is_ why he’s subjected himself to this torture after all. “How am I supposed to _remember_ all this stuff anyway? I’ve never had any trouble fighting before! Why does this matter all of a sudden?”

“Because,” Ashe says with a tired sigh, “we’re no longer fighting in mock battles, Caspar. This is a matter of life and death. You could get seriously hurt.”

“Well, yeah? Duh! I know that! I’m not a complete idiot, you know,” he grumbles. “But I do just fine without all this nonsense. All I need is my fists and my unwavering sense of justice!” Ingrid sends him a look from across the library that tells him he’s definitely exceeding acceptable noise levels, and Caspar hunches his shoulders and smiles apologetically.

“Your ‘_Unwavering sense of justice’_ isn’t going to stop you from getting melted by fire magic when you run head first at a mage with nothing but your gauntlets.”

“Yes it will! I can just simply dodge their attacks! I once saw Catherine slice through an oncoming _arrow_ with Thunderbrand. If I train hard enough, I’ll bet I can do that to magic too!” Well, that’s not entirely true because he hasn’t seen Catherine do anything of the sort, but he has _heard_ of such stories, and watching Catherine in the training grounds gives him no reason to doubt a single one.

“Catherine most likely passed her Certification Exam before she learned how to do that.”

“Aw damn, you think?”

“Definitely,” Ashe says, scratching out something he’s written in order to re-write it.

Caspar groans again and throws his head back. He’s only got two days until the exam takes place and he doesn’t want to be the only person left out of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion because he can’t learn some outdated and totally unnecessary information from a weathered old tome. He needs to prove how awesome and fearsome he is! Strike fear in to the hearts of the other houses and stake his claim as the most impressive fighter at the Officers Academy! But he can’t do that when his weapon is confiscated and he’s sitting on the side lines, cheering everyone else on like some kind of reprimanded child. Maybe he should have started the whole ‘studying’ thing a bit sooner.

He thumps his head against the open book with a soft _thud_, hoping that the words will enter his brain by some form of transference miracle. He hasn’t paid enough attention in Hanneman’s classes to know if that’s scientifically – or magically – possible, but he hopes it is. Maybe if he hits his head harder—

“Why don’t you just ask Linhardt to help you?” Ashe says, frown deepening with every repetitive thumping noise Caspar makes. “Isn’t he your best friend? Everyone always talks about how he’s some kind of genius. Surely he’ll be able to help you better than I can.”

Caspar makes a face. “Linhardt doesn’t tutor people.”

In all the years Caspar has known Linhardt, he’s refused each and every single person that’s come grovelling for academic help. Linhardt despises expending effort to teach people things they should probably already know. _Especially_ when they don’t even want to learn them in the first place.

“Have you tried asking him?”

“No I haven’t _tried asking him_. Didn’t you just hear what I said? Linhardt doesn’t tutor people. He’s just gonna say no.”

“But surely he can make an exception for you. You can offer to help him with research in return or something.” Ashe sounds desperate at this point. He keeps looking from his notes, to Caspar, and then to Ingrid - who’s still glaring daggers in to the back of Caspar’s head.

“Huh, you know what? Maybe that’s not actually so bad of an idea. He _does_ owe me a bunch of favours for helping him sleep in class.”

Linhardt _does _seem to have a very convincing way with words when it comes to recruiting Caspar’s help. Most of the time, Caspar doesn’t even know he’s acting as cover for one of Linhardt’s naps until the professor is asking him why he has all of his books standing open and upright on his desk and he’s scrambling to come up with some kind of excuse mid-lecture while Linhardt snores softly and obliviously behind them.

“Great,” Ashe says, snapping his book closed. “I’m afraid I really have to be going now, Caspar. I need to study the rest of this in silence, so I’ll be going to my room. Let me know how it goes with Linhardt.”

“Will do. Hey, thanks for the help, Ashe!”

Caspar watches him walk briskly out of the library, picking up several other non-studious books about knights on his way out. Caspar feels kind of bad for roping Ashe in to tutoring him in the first place - every other person in his class had the sense to refuse him outright, knowing that teaching Caspar how to think logically is like trying to force blood from a stone. He supposes Ashe is just too kind for his own good.

But there’s no way Linhardt will refuse him, right? They’ve been best friends since they were kids and Caspar has never asked him for any other kind of help—hell who’s he kidding? He knows Linhardt _hates_ this kind of thing. Anything that disturbs him from either his research or naps will automatically be shut down without so much as a sparing thought. Caspar can just kiss his chance at glory and success goodbye; he can already hear the funeral procession blaring sad music on his ruined future’s behalf. So much for carving his own path - he’s been thoroughly defeated by paper and words and there’s not a single soul in this monastery than can save him now – he’s _beyond_ saving, his brother is going to laugh at him again, he’s—

“…in the library?” Linhardt’s voice startles him from his internal dilemma, soft and groggy.

“Huh?” Caspar shakes his head and looks up at his friend. Linhardt looks as though he’s just woken up, which he very probably just _has_. His hair is slightly messy, his face is marked on one side where, presumably, he’s been resting it against some kind of surface, and his eyes still look puffy and tired. Caspar’s gotten used to seeing Linhardt this way by now, and honestly, his sleeping schedule kind of worries Caspar some, but he’s not about to tell Linhardt how to live his life. It’s not like he’d care or listen anyway.

Linhardt yawns before repeating himself. “What are you doing in the library?”

“Oh! Well I was studying with Ashe, but he had to, uh… leave.”

“You were studying?” Linhardt’s eyebrows raise enough to tell Caspar that he’s not quite convinced by the explanation.

“Yeah, I can study too you know!”

“Weapon Advantage,” Linhardt ignores him to read the page he’s resting on over his shoulder. “How tedious.”

“Yeah? You know much about that?” Caspar asks, testing the waters. If he _can_ get Linhardt to teach him, he’ll have no problem with passing at all!

“Well of course.” Linhardt takes the seat opposite Caspar that Ashe had once claimed and rests his head on the table upon his crossed arms. “It’s the basic fundamental principle to staying alive in combat. I’d hardly take to the battlefield without knowing it.”

“How come everyone seems to know this but me?” Caspar frowns. Ashe was already on an entirely different section of the Tactical Theory syllabus, and apparently, the professor had breezed past the subject months ago, assuming that the class already had a solid grasp of the basics. But Caspar has never paid much attention to _who_ he picks fights with, even if they are stronger, bigger and scarier – a fight is a fight and you can only really know how you’ll fair once you get down to it. If Caspar just avoids every fight because he ‘_theoretically’ _might not win, he’ll never be the mighty warrior he intends to be!

“It’s not as though you’d adhere to the rules of Weapon Advantage even if you were aware of them,” Linhardt says as though it’s the most obvious piece of information in the world. “You’d see a person wearing enemy colours and run at them blindly anyway.”

“That’s not true!” Caspar attempts to defend himself but his heart isn’t in it because he knows Linhardt is right. “OK, so maybe it is.” Linhardt hums in an ‘_I told you so’_ kind of way, and closes his eyes. “So what are _you _doing here?”

“Continuing my nap. The dining hall got too noisy.”

Caspar grins. “So you’re not busy?”

Linhardt cracks an eye back open and gives him a bored look. “I very clearly just said that I am.”

“Yeah, but, like, are you _really_ busy? You can sleep later too, right?”

“In theory, yes.”

Caspar decides there’s no time quite like the present. “OK then, since you know so much about all this ‘theory’ stuff, I’ll bet you can help me!”

Linhardt’s eyebrows pull together in to a frown. “Help you?”

“Yeah, tutor me so I don’t fail my Certification Exam! I mean, if you want to, you don’t have to. I could really use the help though and you’re really good at this kind of thing and I don’t want to fail because then I won’t be able to fight in the next—”

“OK,” Linhardt says, closing his eye again.

“Yeah that’s what I thought, don’t worry about it, you can just go back to sleep—wait, did you just say ‘OK’?”

“It would appear so.”

“Oh,” Caspar says simply. He looks at Linhardt’s still form in astonishment. Linhardt _never_ agrees to help people study, so why is he suddenly being so agreeable? Not that he’s not overjoyed! Because he really is, but it just seems… strange. “Really?”

“Yes,” Linhardt says. “Right after this nap.”

Caspar hadn’t thought he’d get this far. “OK… so what should I do until then?”

Linhardt shrugs his shoulders, which looks as though he’s just flopping around with the way he’s laid out atop the table. “I don’t know. Start by writing out what topics you need to cover for the exam.”

“Writing out the topics, gotcha.”

Silence falls over the library for the first time in a long time when Caspar finally puts his head down and starts making a list. He has to dig around for a while to find a piece of parchment that isn’t covered in inky blotches or dedicated to drawings of what his dream Hero’s Relic would look like, but he eventually finds a piece that is only slightly crumpled and begins to jot down the areas that Professor Byleth had told him to work on. There are… a lot of things, he soon realises. All of which pertain to Tactical Thinking; a realisation that makes Caspar groan and wish academics didn’t exist. Every problem he’s ever encountered could be easily solved with a fight – he’s never once thought about _any_ of the complicated theory involved with it all. Who has time for that? Certainly not Caspar.

Weapon Advantage, Movement Strategy, Terrain Effects – it’s all useless information that Caspar will never think about ever again once he gets back on the field. Surely none of the great Warriors of Legend ever thought about these things in the heat of battle? When it comes down to it for people like Caspar, the only thing that matters is besting your opponent, no matter how you do it! If only the Professor was able to just pass them individually based on skill - he’d certainly pass the Certification Exam if it came down to his prowess with an axe, or how loudly he could shout while swinging it.

When the list reaches twelve topics, Caspar finally puts his quill down and puts his head in his hands instead. The stuffy air inside the library is starting to make his head hurt and his leg won’t stop bouncing in an attempt to expel all of his pent up energy. Staying quiet for so long is _boring. _If only he were academically gifted like Linhardt, then he wouldn’t even have to be stuck inside this dingy library, it’d all just come naturally and he’d be right at the top of the class, looking down at Ferdinand, laughing at him like he’s always dreamed of.

Speaking of Linhardt - he’s still fast asleep, snoring softly on the other side of the table, completely undisturbed by Caspar’s woes and struggles. For a moment, Caspar takes the time to study him instead of his book; the way his face looks peaceful and soft, the way his lips are parted slightly as he breathes, and the way a section of his dark green hair falls across his nose.

_That must be uncomfortable_, Caspar thinks as he reaches across the table to sweep the stray hair away and tuck it behind Linhardt’s ear. His hair is really soft and fine, and the strands don’t stay in the place Caspar orders them to. Instead, they disobediently slip back in to Linhardt’s face in an even more irritating-looking way than before. Caspar scowls and tries to tuck the hair away again as softly as he can manage, so as to not wake Linhardt up, but it doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. He tries again and winces when he ends up accidentally jamming his finger in to Linhardt’s cheek instead.

Linhardt’s face scrunches up under the assault and Caspar retracts his hand as though he’s just touched an open flame.

“Five more minutes,” Linhardt grumbles, turning his head the other way. Caspar doesn’t say anything. As far as he’s concerned, nothing happened. Not at all. Actually, he very pointedly turns back to his book and holds it close to his face to scowl at the pages in an attempt to learn _something_ to impress Linhardt with when he wakes up.

It doesn’t last long, however, because, in his new position, Linhardt’s hair remains out of his face, and Caspar can now clearly see his features when he peeks over the top of the page. It’s not that he hasn’t ever seen Linhardt’s face before, because he’s seen it _plenty _growing up_,_ but suddenly, studying Linhardt just seems ten times more interesting than whatever knowledge sits inside his book.

_Linhardt sure is pretty,_ Caspar finds himself thinking. His eyelashes are dark and long, casting flickering shadows upon the high points of his cheeks under the low library lighting. He wonders if there’s a reason why Linhardt’s eyelashes are so long. He brings a hand to his own lashes and discovers that they don’t feel as long as Linhardt’s look. Does eyelash length correlate to genius? Maybe Caspar can’t retain information because of his eyelashes, in which case he stands _no chance!_ _Stupid eyelashes,_ he curses. His brother probably inherited all of the extra eyelash length too. And the Goddess is supposed to be merciful and just? Caspar has to laugh.

“Stop staring so loudly,” Linhardt yawns and Caspar almost jumps out of his skin.

“I wasn’t _staring_,” he says, shaking all previous thoughts from his head. “I was just _bored._ You sleep like a log.”

Linhardt stretches and sits upright. “So I’ve been told.” He’s still refusing to open his eyes, which makes Caspar think that he might have fallen back asleep when he doesn’t move for another few seconds or so.

“You done sleeping now? Are you finally gonna help me?”

Linhardt makes a face at Caspar’s less than ideal volume and then reluctantly rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Yes. Give me a moment, Caspar.”

“OK!” Caspar bounces in his seat. This’ll be easy with Linhardt’s help! Linhardt knows all sorts of things. He’s like a walking, talking, mostly sleeping, book! If anyone is going to teach him a whole syllabus in two days, it’s Linhardt and his long eyelashes!

** ** **

Linhardt, Caspar quickly discovers, is _not _a good teacher. In fact, Caspar wagers he could probably learn more from a very determined rock.

The first thing Caspar notices is that Linhardt gets bored explaining things _very _quickly. Caspar almost never hears what he says the first time around either, so asking him to repeat a section usually ends with Linhardt just saying something like, “I’m bored explaining this, let’s just move on to the next one.” Caspar ultimately has no defence prepared, since he is entirely at Linhardt’s mercy, so he just goes along with it, hoping that at least _one_ of the topics will sink in enough to boost his chances at passing.

The second thing Caspar notices is that Linhardt is just as easily distracted as he is, and that Caspar always seems to ask questions that prompt extremely unhelpful, unrelated, and lengthy debates. He often doesn’t even notice that it’s happened until he looks back down at his notes and realises that discussing what material Hero’s Relics are made from is not, in fact, a topic that will appear on his Certification Exam. If only it were, then Caspar wouldn’t have to be here giving himself a headache.

“What do trees provide on the battlefield?” Linhardt asks in relation to their newest topic: Terrain Effects.

“Uh… shade from the sun?”

“Well, strictly speaking that _is_ true,” Linhardt says. “However, it’s not the correct answer. Try again.”

Caspar frowns and tries to think about trees. He’s never really thought this much about trees before. Does anyone really think about the properties and benefits of trees in everyday life? Caspar doesn’t think so. There was an apple tree in his garden back home that he got stuck up once; the apples tasted nice and kept him alive until his father got him down four hours later. “Sustenance?”

“Hm, that is also technically true.” Linhardt puts a finger to his lip as he ponders something. “I wonder what would happen if you were to actually write that during the exam. It surely would provide an interesting discussion in to the fairness and integrity of examinations. Both answers are correct, and are equally as valuable and essential in saving a soldier’s life during battle, however only one answer will be marked as such. So what makes one answer more ‘right’ than another?”

“Linhardt,” Caspar groans, realising what’s about to unfold. “I don’t even know what most of those words mean. Can we please get back to the teaching?”

Linhardt rolls his eyes, “Fine.”

“So what _is_ the correct answer?” Caspar asks, quill poised over his mostly blank piece of parchment.

“Oh, it’s cover. Trees provide a solid defence whilst also increasing a soldier’s chance at evading enemy attacks.”

“Huh,” Caspar says. “I’ve never really thought about trees in that way. Just seems like cowardice to me though. I don’t need to rely on trees to fight people. That’s what my armour is for!”

“Yes, well,” Linhardt supresses a yawn behind his hand. “Not all of us enjoy getting bludgeoned by maces on the front lines.”

Caspar frowns. Linhardt has a point. “Maybe you’re on to something,” he says. “No two soldiers fight the same, right? Everyone has their own unique style! So maybe _my_ right answer _should_ be different from yours!”

“It certainly is an interesting area of discussion…” Linhardt says, launching in to another debate. And this time, the distraction is entirely Caspar’s fault.

The third thing Caspar notices, or rather, remembers from his earlier train of thought, is that Linhardt is _extremely_ pretty. Which is, arguably, the strongest and most valid reasoning as to why Linhardt is the worst teacher ever, because whenever Caspar gets back on the right track and finally musters up enough concentration to digest some _actual_ useful information, he instead becomes preoccupied with the way Linhardt’s soft-looking lips move when he talks, or the way the flickering lights reflect in his eyes like stars.

One moment, he’ll be listening intently to Linhardt’s bored voice rattling on about something to do with Gambit Boosts, and then next, he’s completely zoned out, thinking instead about how soft Linhardt’s hair had been to touch, and if he’d ever let Caspar play with it. Which is… Caspar’s not sure what that is, or what that means, or why he’s thinking things of this nature all of a sudden. Maybe it’s the stress. It’s definitely the stress. Once this exam is over and done with, Caspar definitely won’t be thinking about how beautiful his best friend is. Has he always been this beautiful? How has Caspar gone this long without noticing before?

“…Caspar?”

“Huh?” Linhardt is suddenly very close to Caspar’s face, waving a hand in front of his eyes. Caspar shuffles backwards slightly, needing to increase the distance between their faces lest his own burst in to flame.

“I’ve been calling you for ages. Are you even listening?”

“Yes?” he says, more a question than a definite answer. Because, to nobody’s surprise, Caspar has not, in fact, been listening.

“Right, so you’ll have no trouble repeating what I just said back to me then?”

“Uhh… no?”

“OK, that’s enough,” Linhardt says, unconvinced. He closes Caspar’s book before sitting back in his seat. “I’m tired, and so are you.”

Caspar can’t even argue with him, because he thinks he might explode if he spends even another second locked up inside this cramped library; his lungs feel as though they’re weighted with how much dust he’s been breathing in. And Linhardt has the audacity to complain about the sweaty smell of the training grounds! Caspar would take _that_ over dust-clogged nostrils any day. At least sweat equates to progress. What does dust equate to? Standing still for a very long time? Caspar makes a note to bring that to Linhardt’s attention the next time he grumbles about being dragged to train.

“Same time tomorrow?” Caspar says, and he has no idea _why_ because he’s arguably more confused than he’s ever been.

“Are you sure? You got next to nothing done, Caspar. Surely you’d be better off without me.”

“What are you talking about? I learned all that stuff about trees! I’m not gonna forget that in a hurry. My pass rate should already probably be at around fifty-_one_-percent now!”

“Well, if you insist.”

“I do insist! And tomorrow, we’re studying somewhere else. I think all this dust is stopping me from concentrating.”

Linhardt makes the same face he does when he’s presented with his least favourite food. “If you insist upon the training grounds I’ll have to refuse.”

“We’re not going to study in the training grounds, Linhardt,” Caspar rolls his eyes. For a genius, Linhardt sure can be ridiculous sometimes. “There aren’t any tables.”

“OK so where, then?”

“Outside! The field by the river!”

“Caspar,” Linhardt says evenly. “There aren’t any tables there either.”

“Oh, yeah, well. It’s nice outside, and quiet! I’ll get way more done for sure.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” he shrugs. “Come and find me when it’s time to go. I’ll probably still be here.” Linhardt yawns and places his head back down on the table, using one of Caspar’s books as a pillow.

“Haha, that’s a joke, right?”

“Probably not.”

“Cool,” Caspar says, and makes a note to come back before curfew to make sure that Linhardt doesn’t actually sleep in the library overnight.

** ** **

So, Caspar has a serious problem. One that’s bigger than the possibility of him sitting out of the upcoming battle, and it takes the form of Linhardt. The longer he spends in the company of his best friend, having reached the startling realisation of how pretty he is, the less he seems to be able to concentrate on anything else.

Moving their study to the outdoors was supposed to make it _easier_ for Caspar to pay attention to something other than Linhardt, but his brain seems to have other ideas, because he’s been staring at Linhardt’s sleeping form as they sit under the shade of a tree for over an hour now. Linhardt had suggested he give Caspar a few moments to review everything they’ve been over without the possibility of distraction, only, Linhardt has no idea that regardless of whether he’s awake and talking or not – he’s still extremely distracting.

They have made some progress though, or rather, Caspar has made some progress. He finally thinks he understands Weapon Advantage, and Linhardt is right – he’ll never adhere to those rules on the battlefield. Caspar is a way better fighter than what these books are giving him credit for. He may not like it, but as long as he can answer the professor’s questions, he’ll be back on the battlefield ready to ignore the rules in no time.

The afternoon sun is casting a pleasing glow upon Linhardt’s face through the leaves, and his hair is pooled out around his head upon the pillow that Caspar brought from his room. Caspar doesn’t know a whole lot about art, but he’s heard Ignatz talk about it so much during his time catching up at the training grounds, that Caspar’s pretty confident in saying that Linhardt resembles what he would imagine a masterpiece to look like.

His book lays open in his lap. Every now and again, he’ll spare it a glance and force himself to repeat the words he reads a couple of times over. But every time a bird chirps, or a gust of wind rustles the pages, his attention reverts back to Linhardt again. Is it weird to watch someone sleep? Not if they’re sleeping right in front of you and you have nothing else to do, right? Caspar frowns. But he _does_ have something to do – he needs to master the fundamentals of Combat Arts. This is all really getting out of hand.

“Hey, Linhardt, you done sleeping yet?” Caspar all but shouts, unable to cope being alone with his mind for a moment longer. “I’ve finished reviewing!” Linhardt doesn’t even stir. Caspar pokes him in the side. “Hey, wake up!”

“Ten more minutes,” Linhardt grumbles.

“You said that twenty minutes ago!” Caspar whines. “Come on, Linhardt!”

Linhardt makes a wholly dissatisfied noise and sits up, wincing when his eyes meet the sunlight. “Teaching is so tiring,” he yawns, stretching out his stiff shoulders.

“But you’ve only taught me one thing today,” Caspar says.

“Oh, is that all? I don’t know how the professor does it. What an exhausting profession.”

“Then why did you agree to help me?” Caspar asks, suddenly curious.

“Because you’re my friend,” Linhardt says simply, pulling absentmindedly at the grass around his legs. “And because I can’t bear to be on the battlefield without you. Somehow, your shouting doesn’t make it seem as horrendous. It would be rather solemn and boring to fight alone.”

“Really?” Caspar asks, eyes glowing and chest bursting with pride. 

“Yes,” he says. “You’re also quite an effective buffer between myself and Ferdinand. He spends so much time chasing after you like a nagging parent, that he completely neglects to lecture me on my shirking of noble responsibility by not being on horseback wielding a spear of some sort.”

“Ha! So I’m like your tree!” When Linhardt sends him a puzzled look, Caspar explains. “I provide cover and help you evade enemy Ferdinands!”

Linhardt laughs, and Caspar likes the sound; it’s just as pretty as him. “I suppose you are. Oh, that actually gives me an idea.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“It might make it easier for you to remember information if you associate it with people you know. Like yourself and the tree.”

“Oh!” Caspar says, beaming. “I like that!”

“Yes, I think it’ll prove a more effective method. After all, it’s as you said, everyone has their own unique method and style, whether it be fighting or learning.”

“Huh, I think you’d actually make a pretty good professor after all.”

Linhardt looks utterly revolted at the prospect. “No thank you,” he says politely. “I’m quite content teaching myself.”

They spend the next few hours cycling through their classmates and linking their personalities and strengths to differing topics. Caspar is finally starting to remember stuff and it’s actually sticking! He’ll never forget that he’s a tree, or that Ferdinand’s horse doesn’t like him so she likes to walk slower through forests, or that Bernadetta is scared of people, so her Combat Art allows her to shoot from extremely far away in order to avoid them.

And suddenly, as Linhardt starts testing him on possible examination questions, he’s gets more right than he ever has. Nothing seems as complicated anymore and he’s proud of how he’s managed to stay more or less concentrated on his studies than on Linhardt.

That’s not to say he’s still not slightly distracted however; Linhardt is prettier than ever now that he’s invested and intrigued by his new method of learning. His eyes are bright and animated, his mouth moves a mile a minute as he fabricates new connections between the syllabus and their friends, and Caspar definitely does _not_ almost forget everything when Linhardt uses his lap as a pillow and continues to talk to the sky.

By the time evening crawls in, Caspar starts to feel hungry, but more importantly, he starts to feel _confident._ He still forgets some things, but with his new method of learning, he’ll at least be able to retain the information until after the exam tomorrow, which, to be perfectly honest, is as long as he’ll need the knowledge for. Maybe he’ll also forget how utterly intrigued and captivated by Linhardt he is too. That would be a huge weight off of his shoulders because he’s already starting to make a fool of himself.

Linhardt has caught him staring at least twelve times, and has _not_ caught him staring at least a hundred dozen more. Caspar is falling over his words, he feels uncharacteristically warm, and his mind keeps going blank. Is he getting sick? No, Caspar doesn’t get sick. His immune system is pretty strong – he spent so much time outdoors as a child, eating bugs and dirt and swimming in rivers that he’s cultivated somewhat of an iron clad defence against germs, so it’s definitely not that. So what is it? He wants to ask Linhardt, but he doesn’t want to make him feel bad for getting Caspar sick. He tries to make room in his mind for another mental note, one that insists he get himself checked out by one of the physicians once the exam is over. Hopefully they won’t tell him he’s allergic to Linhardt or something because Caspar really, _really_ likes spending time with Linhardt.

“Do you think you’re ready for the exam?” Linhardt asks. He’s still lying in Caspar’s lap, but his eyes are closed now and his voice sounds exhausted. Caspar watches the subtle rise and fall of his chest and smiles.

“Yeah! Thanks to you! I knew it was a good idea to ask for your help.”

“I’m just surprised you didn’t come to me sooner, if you were _that_ concerned about the examination.”

Caspar rubs the back of his neck and smiles. “Well, I didn’t think you’d say yes,” he admits. “You hate tutoring people.”

“Hm, that is true,” Linhardt says. “It’s tedious and boring. But I’d always make an exception for you.”

“Huh, why’s that? Because you like watching how cool I am on the battlefield?”

“Something like that,” Linhardt laughs softly.

“Well if you like watching me fight so much, I have a really cool new move I thought up last night that I can show you right now!”

“No, no, that’s quite alright,” Linhardt grimaces when Caspar makes to move and squares his shoulders to keep Caspar firmly seated as his makeshift pillow. “Save it for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.”

“Oh, yeah! Good idea, never know when there might be a spy about ready to steal other people’s genius.” Caspar narrows his eyes at his surroundings as though someone might pop out from behind a tree with a notebook poised ready to do just that. Because he’s not saying that Edelgard has stolen one of his axe moves – there’s no way he’d be able to prove it, and Hubert would probably poison him in his sleep if he dared challenge her – but let’s just say, he’s definitely never going to practice any new moves in front of the people at the training grounds ever again.

“Certainly,” Linhardt yawns.

“Hey, don’t fall back asleep yet, Linhardt! We have to go and get food before they run out!”

“I hardly think that’s possible, Caspar.”

“Uh, it totally is! We have an examination tomorrow and Raphael thinks that eating more food will make his brain grow, which is not—wait, _is _that possible? Never mind, don’t actually answer that. The point is, there’ll be nothing left if we don’t move fast!”

“Go on without me,” Linhardt says. “Leave me here. I’m too tired to walk.”

“Then I’ll carry you! Come on Linhardt, food is important!”

Linhardt groans when Caspar removes his legs from under his head, and groans again when he’s forced to sit upright. Caspar crouches before him, offering his back like he has done countless times before. Linhardt grabs Caspar’s book before he climbs aboard and clings to him for dear life.

Linhardt is taller than Caspar, much taller, but Caspar is way stronger, so carrying Linhardt is always a piece of cake. He all but skips to the dining hall, unable to control his beaming smile all the way as Linhardt somehow manages to fall asleep atop him.

** ** **

Caspar is sitting on the field of grass outside of the classrooms when Linhardt finds him. His exam is in twenty minutes or so, so he’s hunched over his papers going over his classmate connections once more for good luck. He’s already thrown breakfast down and burned it all off in the training grounds, so now all he has left to focus on is what remains inside his brain. Luckily, sleep hasn’t washed it all away; he’s still remembers everything they talked about yesterday!

“Caspar,” Linhardt says, crouching down to talk to him.

Caspar’s smile is immediate. “Oh, hey, Linhardt!”

“How long until your exam?”

“Twenty minutes or so. I’m so gonna ace this! The Professor isn’t even gonna believe how many questions I can get right! I’m gonna see how fast I can manage to do it, I bet I can set some kind of record or something!”

“Oh, well if you’re that confident, I guess you won’t be needing this then,” Linhardt says.

“Needing what—?”

Linhardt presses a feather light kiss to his cheek and Caspar almost explodes right there and then. Linhardt’s soft lips are upon his cheek! His head is _seriously_ going to explode, he’s not joking or exaggerating, his face feels as though it’s on fire and Caspar’s lungs feel as though they might burst because he’s holding his breath and forgetting to breathe! Is that medically possible? Can someone explode? He’s never heard of it happening before and doesn’t really want to be the first either. It would probably be super messy and Linhardt would probably get all dirty and annoyed. Not to mention it would be an embarrassing way to die. Caspar already has his hero death planned out and that’s not supposed to happen for another hundred years at least.

“What was that?” Caspar asks a bit too loudly, snapping his head around to stare wide-eyed at his best friend who has definitely just kissed him on the cheek.

“A good luck kiss,” Linhardt says as though he’s just stated the most boring and mundane fact in the world.

_A good luck kiss? _Caspar thinks it might have just done the opposite and emptied his entire mind of every thought he’s ever conceived since birth.

“A good luck kiss?” Caspar asks aloud.

“Yes.”

Caspar stares blankly at the grass for a moment before coming to the realisation that it felt _extremely_ nice. “Do it again!”

Several passing students turn to look at the disturbance, but when they notice that it’s Caspar that’s making the noise, they just shake their heads and return to their business. Linhardt laughs and there’s a faint blush on his cheeks when he says, “You have to pass to get another one.”

“What! No fair!” Caspar shouts.

Linhardt raises an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were confident enough to ‘ace’ this exam?”

“Yeah, but that was before there was so much at stake!”

With another chuckle, Linhardt stands up straight and pats Caspar on the head. “I’ll be in the library. Come and find me after you pass.”

Caspar watches him go in astonishment. His cheek burns from where Linhardt’s lips had been seconds ago and he lifts a hand to feel it, just to check that it isn’t actually on fire. He can’t believe what’s just happened. Why would Linhardt do that? Does that mean Linhardt likes him? Of course Linhardt likes him, they’re friends after all. Does the fact that it feels like he’s on fire mean that _Caspar_ likes Linhardt?

Caspar slaps his palms against his cheeks as hard as he can, shaking all unnecessary thought from his mind, because when it comes down to it – if he doesn’t pass, he can’t fight and he won’t get another kiss to find out.

“Hey there, Caspar!” Raphael walks over to where Caspar is still sitting on the ground with his papers. “You ready for this exam? You sure look like you’re hyping yourself up!”

“Sure am, Raphael,” Caspar says, more fired up than ever. He could seriously take on _Catherine_ in this mood and probably manage to actually land a hit on her. That’s how euphoric he feels! “I’ve been studying extra hard, there’s no way I’m gonna let a silly exam best me!”

“I like that fighting talk!”

“What about you, Raph? You go to the library like you said?”

“Oh? No. I just ate lots of food to make up for it. They say that food gives your brain power, after all!”

“Is that true?”

“Definitely! How else do you think I got this far?”

Caspar can’t argue with that reasoning, so he gives Raphael a thumbs up, and as more people start arriving for their Certification Exams Caspar gives everyone he sees a thumbs up so they don’t feel left out. Ignatz and Ashe are the only ones to actually return the gesture. Everyone else must be too nervous, he reasons.

“You got Linhardt to tutor you, then?” Ashe asks as they line up outside the classroom. Caspar tucks all of his papers in to his book and puts his quill behind his ear, ready to _destroy_ the examination paper with his correct answers.

“Yep! It worked out pretty well! I’m definitely sitting on a solid seventy-percent pass rate. The Professor is gonna regret ever doubting me!”

“Nobody was ever doubting you Caspar, we _all_ have to take the exam eventually,” Ashe laughs. “Oh, it’s time to go in,” he says, worrying his lip with his teeth as the classroom door opens and Professor Byleth starts welcoming the students inside. “Good luck!”

“Yeah, good luck, Ashe!”

He stomps with purpose over to his usual desk, slipping his book under the desk. _I already have all the luck I need,_ he thinks as he slams his fists on the table making Hilda jump and complain to his left. He mouths an apology and pulls his quill from his ear, ready to bring the Quill of Justice down upon all questions that dare get in his way.

** ** **

The important thing is that Caspar has passed. It may have been marginally, but he’s now a certified Brawler and he’ll be able to partake in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion with his new upgraded axe and gauntlets! Caspar could sing from the top of his lungs right now. He already _has_ released several victory cries on his way to the library, much to Ashe’s mortification. But nothing short of a dragon bursting through the ceiling and scorching them all to cinders will bring his mood down right now! Least of all Ashe’s whispered complaints and attempts to get him to quieten down.

Caspar will _not_ be quietening down any time soon, because waiting for him in the library is a Linhardt! A Linhardt that is waiting to see how well he’s done, and a Linhardt that is waiting with very soft lips. He takes the steps two at a time – he’s never been so eager to breathe in the dust filled air of the library in all of his life.

“_Linhardt!”_ he yells as he throws open the library door. He ignores all of the annoyed looks from the library’s regulars to continue shouting. “I passed!”

Linhardt is, surprisingly, awake when he spots him. He’s hovering by one of the bookcases, flipping absentmindedly through the pages of a book so large he could probably kill somebody with it.

“I knew you would.” Linhardt sends him a small smile when Caspar ambles clumsily over to his side. “Well done, Caspar.”

“Thanks, Linhardt!” he beams. “It was _super_ easy. Oh man, I answered so many! And they even asked the question about trees! And the one about Ferdinand’s horse!”

Linhardt closes his book and smiles. “Well I’m glad our new method proved effective. I’m proud of you Caspar. Just make sure you remember it all so I don’t have to use _warp _on you too much in the next battle, OK?”

“Sure thing! Hey, where are you going?” Caspar asks when Linhardt moves to go and sit back down at one of the library tables. “You still owe me my congratulatory kiss!”

Linhardt stops and pinches the bridge of his nose. Caspar beams and puts his hands on his hips, angling his cheek upwards in Linhardt’s direction. He hears Linhardt sigh and mutter something under his breath that sounds like _‘Please keep it down’_ and Caspar laughs.

When Linhardt presses his lips to Caspar’s cheek for the second time, Caspar doesn’t feel as though he might burst in to flame. No, this time he’s sure he feels more like he’s about to grow Pegasus wings and fly away.

“Again!” he shouts when Linhardt pulls away.

“No,” Linhardt says, cheeks pink and eyes downcast. “You’ll have to do something else to earn it. I can’t just go giving them about for free, that’s not economically sound.”

Caspar frowns, but then he comes up with an even better idea. “Fine. Then can I give you a ‘thank you’ kiss instead?”

Linhardt looks around the library, and everyone seems to have given up paying attention to their antics in the corner by now – they’ve all turned back to their books in an attempt to drown out their, or rather Caspar’s, noise.

“I don’t know what for, since you did all the work on your own. But if it would make you happy, then I suppose I could allow that,” he mutters.

“Nice!” Caspar grins, rocking up on to his tip-toes and smacking a huge wet kiss on Linhardt’s cheek. His skin feels just as soft beneath his lips as he had imagined.

“Ugh, Caspar, do you have to be so disgusting?” he groans, wiping his cheek dry with his sleeve. But Caspar can still see the remains of a smile beneath his grimace.

“Absolutely! Come on, let’s go get lunch while you’re awake!”

Linhardt protests, but Caspar eventually drags him away from the library, and he’s even so bold as to slip his hand in to Linhardt’s on the way there. His face aches when they sit down with food, from the prolonging of his smile, but Caspar doesn’t care! He’s just passed his Certification Exam _and_ he’s kissed Linhardt!

The morning feels miraculous and he’s dancing amongst the clouds.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK U for reading ! pls come talk to me about fire emblem on twitter @ berriesmangoes


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